Star Boy
by sahdah
Summary: An au where Soul does not survive the encounter with Ragnarok. Black Star is left to pick up the pieces. Warnings, language. MaStar


**Warnings: Ragnarok killed Soul au. And Black Stars wasted heart.**

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His eyes are adjusting to the early morning light brightening _her_ window, not his. Never his. He's been awake a few hours only because he knows he needs to go before she opens her eyes. It won't matter if he's shutting her door when her eyes open, she just doesn't want to see him. It's the thing they won't acknowledge.

Calloused fingers toy with the ends of spun gold. His heart is trash, he's trash, a junkie. The small frame that sits on her desk with three pairs of eyes staring back at him confirms this truth. The odd pair out, the red pair, is the one that makes him feel angry and frustrated.

It wasn't Soul's fault, or rather it is- fuck he doesn't know anymore. Ragnarok would have ended her if it had happened any other way, it's just- the pain in his throat and behind his eyes needs to be acknowledged. He misses _him,_ too. They both do.

His clear green eyes focus back on the gold and the soft sounds she makes, she's going to feel achy today. He already feels it, but he can't do anything about it. She won't allow it.

The one time he made her breakfast, the color drained from her face the moment she'd walked into the kitchen. Star doesn't forget the expressions, just learns from them.

She's here, but she isn't. Her face bright one moment remembering things from before he moved in. Then reality reminds her she has a new roommate. So, he doesn't make breakfast for her, because it reminds her of him.

How much longer can he do this?

He's tried, tried to stay away from her away from the nameless thing they do. Only when he's being honest with himself, he realizes it's destroying him. All gods have kryptonite, kryptonite is green.

It's better this way he tells himself. They pretend anything else. She doesn't complain about her physical state, ever. She smiles brightly at him- he talks too loud and boisterous to drown out some of the pain.

How long can he do this?

Tsubaki waited. But, he couldn't be what she wanted.

After, after Ragnarok before whatever this is; he watches a cream colored rib expand and hates the bruise his thumb has left. She'd murder him if tried to be soft, if he ever expressed what he truly feels, she'd leave- just like her mother. Even though he isn't her father.

There are really two befores. Before Soul came to Shibusen and before Ragnarok.

Star was there before Shibusen, _he_ was her best friend, they grew up together. And he knew her better than she knew herself, hated her dad more for the pain his affairs caused in her life, hated her mother for abandoning her. Swore right then and there he'd never do that to her. He would stay, he would survive and endure.

And then came Soul.

And childhood things were left behind. Was it hard watching her fall for her new best friend? Maybe, admittedly he had other things to do. Tsubaki was there then.

His face screws up tightly, did it feel like this for Tsu? It's better to not know. Mifune fills the voids he never could. And it hurts knowing he could have hurt her like that. Did, hurt her like that.

Fuck, he never expected an after. And if after never happened he might have been there for Tsubaki.

If Ragnarok hadn't happened, he wouldn't have had a chance. His eyes lock onto the red ones across the room. They're clearer now; he has less time. Hates that he knows how deep his friend was in, under all that cool apathy. She had won his heart, but teenage bullshit prevented him from saying anything _to her,_ but not him. He knew.

Damnit after, he wouldn't have to see how her eyes are bloodshot and puffy on particular days, he could still be Star- ex best friend. Not in this limbo that is his personal hell.

It isn't Soul's fault.

It isn't, and he stares at her face, unmarred in sleep. When she sleeps he can lie to himself and pretend that she wants him here because he's Blake, her once best friend.

It isn't her fault.

It's his.

It's his fault, he's confused her. It's his fault, he sometimes feels her soul call out for his best friend's, when he's inside her.

It's his fault he fell in love with Maka. Not hers.

He wants to stay, he wants to hold her close, to trace his fingers across the freckles that bridge her nose. It hurts remembering that he used to trace the big dipper on her freckles as kids.

Now, he spends so much time not looking at her he wonders if at times he sleeps with a ghost, if he's deluded himself into this existence. Living a sham, going against everything people think he stands for.

Gods don't bow down to anything, but kryptonite knows no god.

He inhales her one last time and gets up to wash away her traces from his body. When she wakes up he'll be at the gym attempting to make himself strong enough to leave. As if he could.

He makes it to Shibusen early these days, if only just to drag her into his arms to give her noogies or blow raspberries on her- these are things he can do. Shouldn't, but this is all she allows him.

They have lunch, she tells him he's an idiot. He is, he can't stop smiling when she looks at him, sees him, when he is brave enough to face her. He isn't, because he isn't strong enough to lose her.

Living with her isn't hard, he's as clean as she is. He wonders if that bothers her more or less than if he wasn't? He likes her cooking shows, she supports his gaming and sometimes they play together, just not Mario Kart. Never, Mario Kart.

So, he doesn't tell her the things he wants to say. Channels his anger into training. Channels stupid shit like _I love you,_ into breaking pre-kishin face. Uses, _I hate that I'm alive and Soul isn't,_ into killing in the most efficient way possible. He chides himself, that has nothing to do with him. He swore to himself to protect her in the after, she's right. He's an idiot for falling in love with her.

Hated those conversations with Soul. Thought he has accepted all those things about her: "You know the way she just worms her way into your head and you just- fuck, do whatever she wants?" "And her legs?! Is she trying to destroy me with those skirts?" Yeah Soul, he knew, probably better than her partner. But did he really?

The day draws to an end, he's beat. He'll shower again when he gets home. He'll eat. He'll drop to the couch to mindlessly watch some show with her.

He'll say no this time.

He'll say no, when she pulls him close to her with a far off look on her face. He won't kiss her. He won't pick her up and carry her to her bed. If he does, he'll unwrap those legs from his torso and walk away. He'll leave this time. He'll undo her hands from his hair gently and tell her he can't do this anymore.

No, it isn't her. It's him.

It's always him, he's the weak one.

He'll be the one that holds her tighter than she does him. She says she's okay with facing him, but he isn't. He doesn't want to see what her face looks like when she's thinking about Soul. And he can't bear for her to see what his face looks like when he loves the one who can't exactly love him back.

And he'll remain, because, because he's a steadfast fucking idiot who wishes he wasn't loyal or in this deep.

In his nightmares she calls to him, she sees him, and it's his name on her lips when he sends her to the stars because he cares too damned much. And she can't find a better man, that man died.

That man will stare back at him in the morning, and he'll renew his promises to him, he won't hurt her, not like he did. He doesn't get the option to die.

So the sky will turn, and at some point it will find him awake, before she does. So he can lie to himself and hold her hair and start another day that will find him trying to surpass god.


End file.
